


Never Dreamed of This

by Anaamikaa



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Companion Piece, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 03:45:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3795469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anaamikaa/pseuds/Anaamikaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a companion piece to Your Smile, the second chapter of my main work, Alive Back From The Dead. I doubt that it can be read as a standalone without being quite curious but feel free to do as you wish!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Never Dreamed of This

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece to Your Smile, the second chapter of my main work, Alive Back From The Dead. I doubt that it can be read as a standalone without being quite curious but feel free to do as you wish!

 

* * *

 

 

     He was going to kill Mycroft.

     Perhaps he’d thank her, too.

     Joan had seemed surprised when Sherlock had agreed to the counselling without a word. And quite literally so. He hadn't said a single word, leaving the preparation up to Mycroft.

     Sherlock knew that Mycroft had bullied Joan into agreeing. Her posture had screamed _military_ when she had walked in through the door of 221B as if held on gun point. He had jumped to his feet in clear alarm, tensing further when Mycroft had walked in after her instead of the expected gunner.

     He had met with a hollow look on locking eyes with her, a look even _he_ wasn't capable of on his best day. It had rattled him though he refused to show it. Joan had only looked at Mycroft as she had explained her simple plan and then had silently retired to her room.

     The days after that had been...strained, to say the least. She rarely left her room and even when she did, it was to leave for dinner. She never asked him if he wanted to accompany her. What surprised him the most was that she didn't even make him another cup of tea while she was having some.

     All in all, it reminded him too much of his time away.

     Because it had seemed as if she had forgotten he existed.

     Therefore, to say that he was _surprised_ when Joan’s firm murmur reached his ear was imbecilely inaccurate.

     “Best friend.”

     Best friend. _Best_ friend. Best _friend._ Best. Friend.

     His mind couldn't stop reiterating innumerable variants thereof and the only thing that belied his inner turmoil was his stillness.

_HOW?_

     She hadn't even wanted to _look_ at him, let alone offer that exclusive smile that was reserved for him and him alone.

     And here she was...calling him— _that._ Of all things _._ He thought one had to be... _not him_ to be somebody’s best friend.

     His lungs weren't functioning right.

     It was a moment later that he registered a soft sound and he tore his eyes away from Joan’s face (why did it look concerned?) to inspect its source.

     “Sherlock,” Thompson was saying.

     “Hmm?” He asks faintly.

     “Are you alright? I've been trying to get your attention for the past minute.”

     “Well, now you have it.” His voice comes out slower than usual. It sounds subdued even to his own ears. He hates it.

     Wait. Past _minute?_

     “Why did you say flatmate?”

     “Why on earth shall I expand on what I think of _my_ friend to someone else?”

     “What?”

     “What does it matter, whether or not people know the extent of our relationship?” He asks, gesturing to Joan.

     He watches her eyelids move in a stunned blink before focusing back on Thompson.

     He notices the sag of her shoulders and wonders if it was the wrong thing to say.

     He finds the answer in the slow swallow of Joan’s throat.

     He wants to wipe away the pain in the press of her lips.

 

* * *

 

 

 


End file.
